


Red Zinger

by tealeaf523 (ConstantComment)



Series: HP Rarepairs [21]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, EWE, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting Via Plants, HP: EWE, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Lovesick Neville Longbottom, N.E.W.T.S., Oblivious Hermione, Revisions, Sleep Deprivation, Snogging, Study Date, Studying, Tea, magical plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 13:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9659672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantComment/pseuds/tealeaf523
Summary: Hermione has been revising for the N.E.W.T.S, so she's been forgetting a few important things: 1) Sleep is necessary for human function, and 2) People care about her, namely Neville Longbottom, and 3) Tea fixes everything.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My buddy heartlikethunder suggested a Hermione/Neville drabble... and it turned into nearly 2k.

Hermione hadn’t given the small, unassuming potted plant much thought when Neville had set it on the table next to her pile of revision… detritus.

“Hey, uhm, ‘Mione,” he’d said.

And she’d said, “Not now, Neville.”

Minutes later, when Hermione finally raised her head of corkscrew curls with eyes nearly  _ crossing _ in the brightness of the fireplace due to so many hours poring over textbooks, she realized he’d gone.

The plant next to her was… plant-like. Small green leaves, a greenish-brown stem, fitted snugly in a coral coloured pot. If her eyes weren’t so tired, she’d have taken a closer look, but instead she abandoned her mountains of parchments and trudged upstairs to grab her notebook left at her bedside.

—

“Hey! Hermione!” a voice called.

Hermione glanced up and spotted Neville, who was shrugging quickly into a blue knitted jumper as he joined her swift descent to the Great Hall from the Common Room porthole. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, if the intense cowlick on the side of his head was any indication. She smiled at him, trying to tamp down the bubbling impatience in her stomach. She’d thought she’d be early enough not to run into other students.

“About that plant—”

“Mhm,” Hermione said, hitching her knapsack over her shoulder. They jostled down the stairs.

“So, I thought it would be good for you. You see, it’s a Camellia Acumenis. You can brew its leaves to help you study.”

Hermione frowned at him. His cheeks were pink and his eyes shined bluer than normal, but she  _ really _ didn’t have time to think about how fine blue-eyed boys looked in blue knit jumpers. “Oh. Thanks, Neville. I left it in Gryffindor Tower but I’ll try it out later.”

“Great. I found it in my re-read of  _ Goshawk’s Guide to Herbology  _ and thought of you. It’s got these pretty, curly stamens in its flowers...”

Hermione spotted the door to the library.

“See you, Neville,” she said absently, and scurried to find a quiet spot to review Ancient Runes.

—

Hermione was losing her mind. It was quite possible she’d been up for three days (it was known to happen) because the trips between library and her domain in front of the Common Room fireplace seemed to last years and years longer each time.

She dropped another pile of books, including one she’d accidentally swiped from the Library, in front of the sofa and sunk down into it. There was no end to the internal groan in her head, but she forced herself to blink the fogginess from her eyes

She pulled her Arithmancy workbook from under a tower of parchment rolls and opened it to  _ Chapter Eleven: Wenlock’s Laws _ .

—

“Hi.”

The quiet rumble lifted Hermione from her studious stupor some time later, and she looked up to see Neville slouch down on the sofa next to her. He held an earthenware mug in his big hands, fingers stained brown from dirt.

Hermione huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing her own ink-stained fingers together as she looked at him.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Neville’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. He looked a bit sleepy, honestly. It was reminding Hermione how groggy she was.

“It’s nearly three,” he murmured.

“Oh,” Hermione sighed, relieved.

“In the  _ morning _ , Hermione,” he continued, very accurately guessing where she’d been headed.

Hermione looked over her shoulder to the tall arched windows across the room, spotting pinpricks of light in the immense darkness beyond the glass. Stars.

“That… makes a lot more...” she began.

“I made you some tea,” Neville said after it appeared Hermione had no intention of finishing her thought.

“The Acumenis tea?” Hermione turned back to him. He was still smiling, dirty blond hair falling into one blue eye—slightly less blue in the firelight—in a pleasing wave.

Neville snorted, biting his lip as he looked down. Hermione squinted at his darkening cheeks.

“No,” he said. “Matricaria chamomilla.”

Hermione tried to recall that particular magical plant.

“It’s just good old Muggle chamomile. I thought you’d be better off with something less… lively. You need to sleep, ‘Mione.”

Hermione looked at the steaming cup in his hand and tucked her bushy hair behind her.

“Neville,” she began, feeling her voice wobble slightly. “You’re so kind to me.”

Neville snorted again, his mouth curving into a full grin. “Yeah, I am.”

“And I’m… I’m not very nice to you,” she warbled.

“Oh, Hermione, don’t—You’re just… very dedicated to your studies,” Neville joked quietly. He placed the warm mug into her hands and gestured to drink. Even as Hermione’s eyes watered and spilled over—just once—she obeyed and took several long, comforting gulps of the concoction.

Her eyes fluttered closed. She could feel her shoulders sink downward, her brow unfurrowed… even the hairs on the back of her neck seemed to relax.

“Good?” Neville asked.

She turned a grateful, tired smile toward her saviour before taking another sip. Neville was pleased, if his puffed out chest was any indication. He sprawled a little in his seat, arm stretching across the back of the sofa.

“I blended it myself,” he said.

Hermione nodded, glancing toward his forearm dusted with dark blond, his strong wrists, his hands. “What can I do to make it up to you? To thank you?”

Neville leaned further into the sofa cushions. His proud smile turned soft. “I would be very thankful if you took care of yourself for once. Get some rest, ‘Mione.”

“That’s not for you, though!” Hermione laughed, a little hysterical.

“Mm,” Neville grunted noncommittally. “You’ll be back to your old self once you get some sleep. Not that I like you less like this.”

Hermione blushed, patting down her frazzled hair. “What about your sweet little plant?” she asked, turning to the coral red pot with its unassuming little green plant inside. She brushed a finger over a soft leaf. There was a faint  _ zing _ of energy that fizzled up her arm.

Neville raised his eyebrows when she looked back at him, lower lip caught in his teeth.

“Best to try that in the morning,” he said, echoing Hermione’s thoughts. And then he was jumping up from the sofa and holding out his hand.

Hermione hoisted herself out of her seat, her hand warmed in the cradle of Neville’s larger one.

Neville led her up the stairs to the fork where the boys’ and girls’ dorm entrances separated, keeping her from swaying too far away with an arm around her waist.

“Goodnight,” Hermione murmured, reluctantly lifting her forehead from his soft tee shirt and letting herself into her dorm.

“Night, Hermione,” Neville whispered.

Hermione pushed the door closed slowly, finding it difficult to look away from Neville’s sweet eyes in the dim light.

—

The world was much more reasonable when one managed to sleep.

Hermione was still a touch muzzy, but attacked her studies with renewed zeal when she went down to the library for the day, humming a little as she sifted through months of class notes and lost herself to Advanced Transfiguration.

A loud clunk startled her out of possibly several hours—or minutes—of work, but Hermione couldn’t bring herself to feel irritated, because there was a tall boy in a chequered Oxford grinning down at her, looking like the sun incarnate… with a charming dose of shyness. Beneath his hands on the library table was a black kettle, and tucked into his messenger bag was the little potted plant.

“I know you’re studying, but you have to watch,” he explained, and then proceeded to fill the kettle with water, light a flame under it, sever three leaves from the little plant and, once the water was roiling, toss the leaves in and cover it.

Hermione was very glad they were in a secluded spot, since Madame Pince would  _ murder _ them if she saw an open flame. However, her worries subsided when the kettle began to emit steam tinged with coral red matching the little planter, and then Neville was rummaging in his bag and producing two mugs. He gathered the plant from its nest in his bag and nudged it toward her, tilting his head toward the snipped stems.

Almost as if he’d commanded it, the stems seemed to heal over, and in the place of leaves new stems emerged, budding and flowering bright yellow with frizzy, bright orange,  _ curly _ stamens.

Hermione let out a delighted (quiet) laugh, and looked up, meeting Neville’s smiling but steady gaze. While she was watching the little zinging tea plant, he’d poured two cups full from the kettle.

“Wow.”

The first taste was like the kick after two cups of coffee, the second like the peace of finding the perfect words to conclude an essay. She felt both invigorated and anchored. Sure and calm. Hermione felt like she could finish all of her homework  _ and _ her revisions  _ this morning, _ the tea was that good.

But first…

Hermione stood and rounded the table, ignoring Neville’s widening eyes in favour of his parted lips. She leant down and brushed her thumb along his slightly stubbled jaw before sealing her lips over his.

Eventually, she moved away from Neville, although it was lovely pressing her lips to his, tugging lightly on the short hairs at the nape of his neck and breathing in his earthy scent—somehow lovelier even than perching on his lap and shivering as he slipped his big hands around her waist to rest in the dip of her back.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s… no bother,” Neville stuttered. “Y-yeah, no, it’s alright.”

Hermione giggled. “It’s just, I knew I’d be distracted if I didn’t do that now as opposed to later. And this tea is fantastic so I have to make the most of my time with it!”

Neville’s flushed, confused expression curved into a smirk. “Of course,” he said. Hermione reluctantly rose and returned to the other side of the table, shuffling her papers and taking another gulp of tea.

It really was fantastically invigorating. She felt sharp as a tack!

“Stay and study with me?” she asked after dragging her textbook toward her again. If Neville’s pleasure was palpable, it was even more so after Hermione added, “And afterward I can snog you senseless.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was the first het I've written in a while. ;D Thank you for reading!
> 
> Come say hi (or nag at me to write) at [byesweetheart.tumblr.com](byesweetheart.tumblr.com)!


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